My son's yaya of nine months went abroad to seek greener pastures. This was in April when I was at the height of losing my mind due to stress working on my thesis dissertation for my Masters in early childhood education.
Breathe in.
A replacement yaya came and I resumed my work although it took time for the adjustments to be made plus the requisite training of the new yaya.
Breathe out.
The husband of the new yaya came storming to our house around 12 midnight, drunk, demanding to see his wife and wanting to make sure that his wife goes home to their town to take care of their sick child. Yaya went home. Thesis work stalled.
Breathe in.
A week later a new yaya was presented. She was only 17 and I was hesitant so I took my time to observe how she deals with my son. Not really ideal but she was kind-hearted so I thought to myself that she's trainable. I resumed work.
Breathe out.
Less than a week, she asked permission to go home because she's suffering from her yearly asthma attacks. What else can you do but let her go?
Breathe in.
The deadline came for submission for my final defense and I was beginning to act crazy. I believed I looked crazy, too. And there he was, my innocent son crying and wanting to be held and I was crying and saying, "I'm sorry, baby, later lang please. Ga work pa si Mom." I distinctly remember asking someone, " Kuha-a nyo di sya anay ho palihog kay ga obra pa ko." And I looked his way and he was crying and I really felt that he understood what my statement really meant: that he was getting in the way. It killed me but I turned away still and carried on with my work. Eventually, he started playing with his cousin but I know we were both scarred by the incident.
During this time, I was a solo parent, too, because his Dad was out-of-town for a series of basketball tournaments. Things weren't really ideal but I know it's not an excuse to renege on one's duties to be a parent. But, it was so difficult. I couldn't even afford to cry anymore because that would mean a waste of energy which I likewise badly needed to sustain taking care of my son until bedtime. And then wake up early in the morning again before he wakes up to prepare all his things for school. Lately, because of his renewed separation anxiety, he wanted me inside the classroom, too. Likewise, I couldn't function as directress of our preschool, too.
But I am a mother. How I wish it were a full-time job. How I wish I had more than enough money to raise my son and afford him a comfortable living without having to work or further my career. How I wish I can just spend the whole day with him without having to worry about deadlines. How I wish I was just that: a mother.
But I am more than a mother. I am a mother with a mission. I was destined to work on something that would hopefully inspire change in the mindset of parents in the way they educate their children. I cannot wrest this away from myself. I am who I am now, including the mother that I am, because of who I am as a person and what I believe in and stand for. I just pray that my son will understand. He's three years old now and he has grown to be a loving boy.
In retrospect, after that incident, I approached him and hugged him and said sorry. He just looked at me and hugged me back. He didn't smile because he said he wasn't ready yet. :) But then we played again and had a fun time and I finally saw that smile that brightens my day.
Breathe out.
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